A Million Miles of Oblivion
by ChaosAme
Summary: Relationships form between the three kids at Shinra: the mysterious Zheng, privileged "vp2b" Rufus, and mischievous Renaud. As they age, these relationships may change for the worse...
1. Chapter 1

They met when he was ten. A child picked up off the streets, hardly any Midgarian capable of tripping off his tongue. But Veldt like him. Veldt liked him a _lot_.

Maybe it was the fact that he was small and fragile, but had held his own against the desert creatures long enough to make it into the city. Maybe it was that, despite his size and inability to communicate, he had survived eight months in a city known for its gangs and child rapists. It _could_ have been that within those eight months he had gained a reputation in theft high enough in the eyes of local shopkeeps and restaurant owners to have earned the playful nickname of The Ghost. But really, he would admit if even slightly pressed, it was because when they finally caught the child menace, and had backed him into a corner, Veldt's gun against the kid's forehead, he looked up at him with cold, dark eyes, and with the grace of the unarmed victim who knew he would still get away, said in perfectly accented Midgarian,

"I don't like you."

The kid had a penchant for acting. He was a _terrific_ actor. And he had made Veldt laugh. Veldt _liked_ him.

None of that acting had come into play the day he'd been taken in, however, barely ten years old, dirty, smelling of rot, and clothed in what looked like torn pillowcases tied together, their colour lost long ago. The fear he felt was plain on his face and in his eyes, and he could hardly contain his astonishment just stepping into the grand place. He had seen the Shinra building from the outside plenty of times, but there was no mistaking the beauty of it merely standing inside. The guards who had led him in urged him on as he stopped to gaze in wonder around him, above him, one so much as nudging him in the small of his back with a gun to make him walk. His dark, curious eyes turned instantly back to the man with a glare of annoyance that warned him without words not to try something like that again.

Rufus liked the way he was so assured of himself. He liked the boy's gleaming black eyes, first. Like a beetle, and hardly bearing more expression than the insect on an average basis. The thing that caught him the most, however, that had made him come down from his father's office, escape the clutches of his nanny, and hide himself near enough the stairs to watch the procession, was the word that there was a _boy_ coming. _Boy_ meant young, and Rufus only knew one other child worth mentioning. He was shuttled back and forth between his mother at the mansion in Nibelheim and his father's perpetual working place so often he never had the chance to make friends. The home-tutoring didn't help, and neither did the fact that Rufus' father was coming into very high power at the moment. Rufus narrowed his eyes. His vision had been clearer ever since the last time Professor Hojo had given him his check-up and shots (which was what he was supposed to be here for now), and he didn't like what he saw on the faces of the SOLDIERs escorting the boy. They looked hungry, like they wanted to hurt him...or worse.

Cautiously, peering around with the ostentatiousness of a child raised in breeding who thought he escaped authority for the stupidity of those around him, Rufus crept from his hiding place and started up the stairs. Suddenly, and with a cry that roused the entire floor, he was pounced on and came crashing down them. A giggling form with way too much obnoxiously bright red hair for his age had tackled him and was now rolling in happiness around on the floor, pulling at Rufus' child-sized suit and gazing at him happily, mischeivously. Rufus glared daggers.

"Renaud!" he scolded in a stage whisper, before turning his attention to the adults coming in clusters and hordes toward them. Rolling his eyes, he muttered to himself "Idiot...", starting back up the stairs as all attention went to the toddler who Rufus was sure was alright. Even if he had hit his head on the way down, it wasn't like any more damage could be done to a brain like his. A leg came down beside him, and Rufus threw his small body to the side, against the wall, as the tall, lanky form of the child's father flew down the stairs yelling threats in his mountain accent. Gaia, he thought with a sigh as he continued shakily back up the stairs, he was surrounded by _numbskulls_.

When he'd finally made it up to the Turk floor, having taken the stairs, he was relieved to find the child alone in the room. The door across from his was open, and the broad-shouldered man who lived in the room was laying on his side, smoking slowly and reading some sort of very glossy magazine that reflected the scarred half of his face in odd ripples and shapes. Rufus spared him half a glance, which he didn't return. That was fine. He knew he was there, and that was all that mattered. Rufus knew the Turks were more on his mother's side anyway, and they never ratted him out to his father or nanny. Well, except for Mr. Teliton, but he was a douchebag all the time.

Straightening out his suit, he didn't bother to knock as he let himself into the boy's room. He peered around the door cautiously, afraid of what he might find, but saw only the child sitting on his bed, eyes huge with fear and shaking.

"Hi," Rufus said casually, not having the concept at his age that there were some people who didn't speak a lick of his language and had no idea who he was. His father was President Shinra of Shinra, Inc.! Whoever heard of someone alien to that! "What's your name?"

The boy blinked at him, his expression unchanging, and the man across the hall, Jet, took the cigar out of his mouth and watched them. He didn't bother to wear a patch over the eye that was scarred shut, and it gave Rufus chills still sometimes. Apparently it scared the boy, too, as his eyes drifted from Rufus to the creature behind him, and he stared openly. Jet cocked the better half of his mouth into a reassuring smirk, and stuck the cigar back in it to return to pretending to read. He'd been there, once, just not so young. Poor kid.

"Hello?" Rufus said, effectively turning the boy's attention back onto him. He sighed and rolled his eyes a little, coming to sit cross-legged by the bed. "You're from Wutai, right? I can tell because your eyes are black and that wierd shape." Rufus paused, and the boy looked down, seeming now to be embarrassed. He understood the blond boy's words just fine - or passingly, at least - but he was much too intimidated to speak. Rufus started a bit as he heard Evander, the father of the kid who had jumped him, coming up the stairs with the sniffling brat in his arms. Slowly, he closed the door back behind him, shutting out the noises. There was an awkward pause as Evander walked by the door, greeting Jet as he went, and disappeared into his own double-suite at the end of the hall.

"Do you like toys?" The boy's head shot up at that. Rufus' bright eyes were staring him down now, and he blinked at him in something closer to curiosity than fear, this time. He was starting to notice the strange sheen over the other's eyes. He had seen blue eyes before, and they weren't like this. These were almost...glowing.

"T-toys?" he intoned softly, and Rufus tried not to sigh again. It would just be redundant at this point.

"Yeah. Toys. Things you play with," he explained with the audacity of a privileged child. As if he couldn't know what toys were, geez... "Of course you like them. You're a kid, like me." Rufus eyed him sideways suddenly, a dramatic imitation of the look his father gave people when he knew they were lying. "You are a boy, right? You're not, like, some monster that _looks_ like a boy, or something?" The child's expression changed to one of outright confusion, tinged with the skepticism of a child of the streets. _Now_ he was looking right, at least in Rufus' opinion. The blond boy shrugged nonchalantly, letting the comment pass. "But you _do_ have a name, right?" The boy nodded, and Rufus raised a fragile eyebrow, waiting. He was silent for a moment, as if wondering whether he should lie, but after a hesitation he smiled softly.

"Zheng...Jiao-Long," he answered strongly, giving his name in the order he had heard it spoken as a child. "I am...not...boy," he said, slowly, measuring his words and tripping over the accent of them. Rufus raised both eyebrows and stifled laughter behind a hand.

"You don't speak well." It was a comment, which spoken by anyone else would have ended as a question. To Rufus it was just a fun fact. He shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. "That's okay, you're a homeless boy." Tseng glared at him, but Rufus was too busy with himself to notice. "Jiao-Long," he said after a moment, tasting the new words on his tongue, gazing around as he did so as if he were contemplating the validity of it.

"_You_ are the one who doesn't speak so well," Jiao-Long mumbled to himself in his native dialect, finally catching Rufus' attention. Just as he had begun to ask the child to repeat himself, however, the door was flung open, and Rufus' nanny barged in and scooped him up, crying about how worried she was. She was flanked by SOLDIERs, and as the men with their bluish headgear turned their gaze onto the room's occupant, he slid back a little, moving into an offensive crouched stance. He wasn't exactly a tame little thing, and he knew now that he was in it _big_.

"Let me _go_!" Rufus whined, struggling in his nanny's grasp. "I just wanted to see the new _boy_!" Failing to get himself out of the large woman's clutches, he turned gasping toward the nearest SOLDIER. "You'd better not hurt him, or you'll have my father to answer to!" Rufus had learned the power of this phrase, especially within the corporation, and though the SOLDIER didn't so much as turn to him, he knew he had probably just saved the kid's life. The nanny finally set him down, holding tight to his hand as she dragged him out, muttering all sorts of things about how upset Hojo was for his being late, and how he wasn't going to get dessert, or something. Rufus didn't fight the grasp, but turned around to the boy as he was dragged off.

"Next time I'll bring toys," he said, earning the glance of one SOLDIER, and a grin from Jet. As the heir-to-be disappeared into the elevator down the hall, the big man stood and brushed himself off, taking the time to light a new cigar and puff down on it for a moment before stepping past the group of armored men and into the room.

"Sorry, boys, but this one's all mine. Wanna get your experimental asses outta here before I have to call security?" He cocked his head, giving them a look of patient indifference as he waited for them to leave, or even better for one of them to interject 'We _are_ security'. He needed a good SOLDIER-induced chuckle today. But none of them said a thing, waiting for a moment before leaving as a pod. Jet watched them go, thinking about that euphemism, and turned his back on Evander as he came to lean against the doorframe.

"Hey Eva, whaddya think of this?" he said, using his cigar to gesticulate to the boy, who was still crouched like a cat on the bed, ready to spring, his dirty, matted hair falling over his face and dark, narrowed eyes. Evander laughed softly.

"Think it needs a bath, yo," he answered, coming up to Jet's side finally and offering a hand to the kid. He didn't budge, and Evander sighed a little. Taking another step forward, and all too aware of the fact that this made the child curl back just slightly, readying his body to move, he crouched near the bed and blinked at him blandly. As he moved down various places in his body popped and cracked, and it was this which made Jiao-Long blink back at him without moving. He could totally take this cat. Totally.

"What's ya name, kid?" he asked gently. Jet watched in silence. Evander was a lot better with kids than any of the others were, that was for sure. He _had_ one of the little monsters! It almost made Jet shudder, and he often wondered if it was because Evander had reproduced and there was a little Evander to take over for the menace some day, or because he felt sorry for the kid that all he had was the man with the fucked up sunglasses as a role model. Oh, and all the other gun-slinging, sword-wielding pyromanics and sadists around here. If the kid didn't become a Turk, he'd become a psychiatrist.

Jet giggled a little at the image of a young Evander gazing kindly ahead and saying the stereotypical "And how does that make you feel?" Hell, the idea of Evander young was enough to make him burst into gigglefits. Jet coughed a little around his cigar, and earned a glancing glare from the older man.

"Zheng Jiao-Long, I think he said," answered Jet for the kid, making him loosen some. Not that Jet didn't have good enough hearing to have known what he'd said perfectly, but it had become a habit to most Turks to put things like that at the end of statements. It made people feel better. Evander continued to watch the child for a moment more, before speaking again.

"We aint gonna hurt ya," he said, his voice quiet and expression unreadable, waiting for the child to respond. He knew better than to trust that phrase. It had gotten him very, very hurt in the past. Jet snorted at the comment, biting a little at his cigar boredly.

"Don't lie to the kid," he said, toeing Evander's foot a little, and blinking innocently into eyes that turned to glare at him. It was just the distraction the child had been waiting for, and he pounced suddenly on Evander, his small body shooting forward like a bullet and taking him down while he was precarious on his feet. Evander swore loudly, and before Jet knew what he was doing he'd pulled out a gun and shot the child, the bullet boring a deep, large hole into his thigh. The child screamed like an animal, reeling in pain and continuing to scratch at Evander's face, while the room filled in seconds with suited men, guns and knives drawn. But just as quickly as it had begun, it was over. Evander flipped the child onto his back with ease the moment he had control of his body, and pinned him down by his wrists on either side of his small, thrashing body.

"You little shit!" he yelled, shoving the child onto the floor and sitting up to pull out his own handgun, holding the child to the floor with it against his chest. The kid stopped moving, though he was still panting like an animal, his entire tense demeanour and expression betraying how much pain he was in. Jet had a big gun, and it left big holes. Evander didn't want to think about just how very ruined his new pants were. There went his latest couple hundred gil.

"I should kill you, you insolent motherfucking brat," Jet spat at him, cigar lost by now amid the many pockets of his suit, his gun still aimed at the child, though now right between his eyes, to kill. A tense moment passed, while the boy stared up at Jet with true, unabashed fright, trying not to cry or scream from the pain that his body was just now starting to dull. Then suddenly the man uncocked his gun, tilting it up and striding out. A collective feeling of relief spread through the room, and the other Turks filed out, leaving Evander to deal with the child that was supposed to be Jet's charge. The man still had his gun pressed to his chest, and was still sitting on him, but Jiao-Long found himself feeling much more at ease no less. After a moment, Evander sighed, rolling his eyes and getting off him, putting his gun away. He glared at him a bit, crossing his arms.

"I should punish you for this, yaknow," he said, blinking coldly at the child. A chill ran through his body, and he winced. Evander's expression softened. "But...you deserve one night of rest." They all did, but they'd never get it. Bending down once more, he picked the child up carefully and carried him from the room, effectively ruining the rest of the suit. Just great. Maybe, just maybe, Veldt would let him off for it and loan him one till his next paycheck. He could only hope so.

"Zheng..." Bright green eyes peered around the doorframe into the hallway, watching the retreating form of his deadly father carry the new Turk to the infirmary. Renaud smiled. A new boy! Even if he was a Turk, he was still a boy. Rufus was no fun to play with anyway, he was always getting Renaud into trouble. But this one...this one was nice and quiet. Grinning to himself, the small child slipped back into the room, closing the door behind him and climbing back into bed. He was excited. Things were really about to change around here...


	2. Chapter 2

It was a number of weeks before Rufus made it down to the Turk floor again, and by that time the boy had very nearly forgotten him. Well, about as well as a person can forget the reason he was almost killed. Rufus peered around the door to the boy's room, hoping he was in, and started at what he saw there. The kid was hurt, and bad. Bruises covered his small, thin body, and there was dried blood all over him; on his chest, stomach, face, even in his hair. Rufus felt his stomach lurch, and before he knew what he was doing he had raced back down the hallway to the stairs, making his way down to the nearest infirmary. There were few enough people around that he was able to easily steal a few cure materia, and he ran back upstairs and into the boy's room with the small, warm balls clutched in his arms. Closing the door behind him with a nudge of his foot, he knelt beside him on the low bed and began to run the glowing balls over his body, where the damage was the worst. As he had been resting feverishly, Jiao-Long's eyes opened, and he blinked in passive interest at Rufus as he worked.

Jiao-Long had never seen materia before. He had heard of it, in passing, on the streets. Some was traded illegaly, and it was highly valuable. But what he had known of was nothing like this, and so he was incredibly curious about what this boy could be doing. He recognised him - boy, did he! If he wasn't totally incapacitated at the moment he would have pounced on and maimed this kid. As it were, however, he was much too weak to hardly breathe; he could barely do so much as _think_ about attacking him. Pity, too. He looked vulnerable.

As the gentle warmth emanating from each small ball began to spread through him, Jiao-Long started, suddenly able to sit up. Frowning, Rufus pushed him back down, continuing to move the materia over the worst of his bruises and wounds.

"What do you think you are doing?" Jiao-Long intoned carefully, gritting his teeth as he fought to sit still. Just wait until he's finished, he's not hurting you...yet. Rufus frowned a bit, concentrating on getting as much as he could before the materia would need recharging. A silent puff of red peered cautiously around the door frame, blue-green eyes blinking in unchecked curiosity.

"Healing you, stupid," he mumbled distractedly. "What does it look like? There," he sighed, satisfied with his work as the last of the balls faded. Pursing his lips, he sat back to place it with its fellows. "What on Gaia did they -"

The instant he knew the child was distracted, Jiao-Long pounced on him, pinning him to the floor and clasping his hands over his trachea. He was aiming to kill the man he was brought there to protect, and as the only Turk on the floor probably could have done it. That was, if Renaud hadn't been there. At the sight of his best friend being tackled to the ground by a deadly Turk, he let out a sharp cry and raced forward, grasping Tseng's small shoulders and pulling hard.

"GET OFFA MY RUFUS!" he screamed at the top of his four-year-old lungs, aiming a well-trained punch right into Jiao-Longs surprised eyes. There was a sharp crack and a feral growl as the boy's nose broke, and Renaud opened his eyes to stare into dark, burning ones. It seemed like an age as the two stared off, the wide, frightened gaze hardening to one of challenge. Renaud felt an odd set of emotions toward the boy, which he was so unfamiliar with he couldn't recognise. He had never felt rivalry, and could only identify it as an odd sort of jealousy. Blinking into those dark eyes, he was given enough time to puzzle over it, as well as plenty of chance to get back up and settle into a defensive stance. He may have been only four, but his father was a Turk, and one of the best! How could this foreign shrimp come crawling in and take over _his_ territory! How _dare_ he threaten the President's son! Rufus spluttered in his corner suddenly, having finished coughing his voice back into functionality.

"Renaud - come on," he managed, his words still forced and rather hoarse. He looked scared beyond belief, tears streaming down his face. If Jiao-Long made a move for Renaud...he'd have to defend him. But could he? The miniscule redhead turned his head and spat, his eyes fading from mist-green to bright, bright blue. Rufus' jaw nearly dropped to the floor at the child's perfect imitation of his father. Oh this was so beyond Rufus' comfort level.

"You wanna fight me?" Renaud intoned, his high voice a slurred form of his father's lay speech. Jiao-Long cocked a brow, hand still over his face as he waited for the blood flow to stem from his nose. Renaud sniffed a bit, drawing his hands up into small fists, and Rufus nearly cringed. He was going to get himself killed! But he couldn't just run off screaming for the Turks, could he? That would make him seem like such a weakling, and get Jiao-Long into much more trouble. He liked Jiao-Long, despite that the other hated him, and didn't want to ruin the possibility of changing his opinion. His eyes, having closed momentarily, shot open at the sound of Jiao-Long shifting on his bed. Renaud rolled his shoulders back challengingly.

"I'm not going to disgrace myself to fight with you, little shrimp," he muttered, his words soft and clipped, measured. Rufus shuddered at the danger in his voice, but Renaud didn't budge. They blinked at each other for a moment more, before Renaud made a lunge toward him that was faster and more agile than any body should be, let alone a short, chubby four-year-old one. Rufus screamed, pressing forward and shoving his own body between the two, who were throwing punches wildly, scratching at each other like animals. A stray hand raked sharp nails over his face, and he shoved Jiao-Long back with all his might, panting as he forced himself to walk over to him and stare down at him, fists clenched at his side. Behind him, Renaud made a mewling sound, and was heard to collapse into a heap. Jiao-Long stared up at him with the eyes of a predator, one hand still clenched and ready to strike, though the rest of his body was relaxed enough that Rufus wasn't afraid of him. He was probably quite a sight; fine gray suit dissheveled and mussed, his previously waxed hair in all directions, as the cuts he had on his face dripped blood over his eye and down his chin. He'd really have to think of something good for this one. Well...maybe that he and Renaud got in a fight. That would work. Leave the real culprit out of it.

"It's okay if you want to be rude to me, say what you want, try to kill me. _I_ don't care. My dad's the President of ShinRa Inc. It's probably gonna happen to me my whole fuckin' life, so I better get used to it. But if you _ever_ try to hurt Renaud again, I...I won't come back." It was the best threat he could think of, and there was only a faint hope that it would work. But to Rufus' relief, the expression in Jiao-Long's eyes changed dramatically, to one hinting toward shock, as the rest of his body gave in and relaxed against the padding underneath him. Rufus watched him for a moment, before sighing and walking back over to Renaud. The redhead may have been taught beyond his years in fighting, but Rufus was raised as a cultured child, given lessons in how to speak diplomatically, and how to intimidate anyone. His caretakers didn't know how smart he really was. Really, no one did...until now. Crouching down, he picked up Renaud by his shoulders and hoisted him up, grunting and protesting softly as he tried to get him to stand on his feet, to no avail. The kid was down for the count. Damnit, why was Rufus always his babysitter!

As he was about to give up, there was a scuffle from behind him, and slim hands slipped under Renaud's arms, lifting him up enough for the boy to scoop him into his arms sideways. Turning his eyes up to Rufus, who was giving him a look of irritation at this point, Jiao-Long lifted the child up and hoisted him a little, waiting. _Is he trying to ask for forgiveness?_ Rufus turned his eyes back onto Jiao-Long's, and blinked at him a little. He glared. _This isn't nearly good enough,_ the look said, and the Wutaiian's sad eyes responded that he knew, but...maybe it could be a start? He was lonely, surrounded by unfeeling adults, and abused daily. If they were all he had...could he learn to not fight them? Could he be taught how to keep them around? He didn't know, and he was sorry. Start again? Rufus stared at him, realising he really had just received all that information from merely gazing into his eyes. Wow. And to think he'd almost forgotten why he liked him in the first place.

Slowly, carefully, Rufus picked himself up, brushed off what he could, fixed his suit, and stepped over to Jiao-Long's side. As if on cue, the older boy stepped out of the room, uncaring that there may be others in the hall, and led Rufus down it to Evander's room. Wordlessly, he took Renaud over to the bed and lay him there, and Rufus touched his arm as he turned around. They stared at each other, and Rufus let him know that this was, indeed, a good start.

"Don't scare me like that, okay?" he said softly, and Renaud moaned a little. Rufus couldn't help but cock a smirk, knowing he was the one who usually made the boy moan like that. He had ways of torturing him. Good job Jiao-Long for find yet another. "Now apologise." There was that firm command once more, the voice of the son of the most important man on Gaia. Jiao-Long hesitated, watching him, but looked more like a deer in headlights than anything. Rufus gave him _the look_, and he blinked, turning instantly back around to address Renaud.

"I am...sorry, Renaud." He contemplated adding that he wouldn't do it again, but had a sneaking feeling deep in the pit of his stomach that it was an outright lie, and that lying right now wasn't the best idea. Unsure, he turned back toward Rufus, giving him a kicked-puppy look. Rufus only nodded a little, letting go of Jiao-Long's arm. There followed an awkward stillness, broken by the soft sound of Renaud snoring. Rufus snorted, fighting back a fit of giggles.

"Well, erm...I should get that materia back before anybody notices." He nodded decisively, and turned on his heel to fetch it, hearing Jiao-Long follow quietly and going back over his excuses in his mind. Oh, how the nurses were going to love the story he'd cooked up...


	3. Chapter 3

"...Jiao-Long?"

Dark eyes shot up to stare through the darkness at the door as it was cracked, letting in a sliver of shimmering grey light. An all-too-familiar sillhouette was backlit by the hall's light, and Jiao-Long sighed. Not caring to acknowledge him, and knowing the fact that he hadn't dismissed him was good enough, he went silently back to the task of wrapping his ankle. He wasn't very good at it, and it took a lot of focus to get it right, in a way he knew would support the injury and didn't feel like it was cutting off all circulation to his foot. Rufus slipped through the crack like a ghost, closing the door behind him carefully as if moving quietly would make him less obvious to the other Turks sleeping on the floor.

"They beat you again." Not a question; Rufus was past questions by now. He was twelve now, there were no excuses to be had. He was the son of President Shinra, would become the Vice President some day. Though no one talked about it, they all knew it. Jiao-Long knew it better than anyone. He was about to be assigned to Rufus, as only four years his senior; he'd risen so very fast. So fast people still hated him. But he was cold, colder even than he had been when he'd first been brought to the building he would never escape. Slowly, Rufus knelt by the young man's side, watching him work for a long moment. He wanted to reach out, to help fix the bandaging up, but knew he would only get glared at for it.

The pair's relationship had been tentative at best for the past two years. For about a month after the materia incident, things seemed to be going well between the trio of children at the Shinra building. Despite the fact that Tseng was almost constantly riddled with bruises, cuts, and other small injuries, he still managed to get out and play, as well as cause mischief, with the other two boys. In the long stretch of silence, Tseng remembered it. He remembered keenly the smell of greenery in the glass-enclosed playplace he'd been dragged to. Renaud's laughter, the touch of Rufus' warm, small hand. A comfort, small comforts in a world of pain and unknowing.

"This is my mother's greenhouse," Rufus explained to him. It was a new word to Jiao-Long, and he tested it silently on his lips. Renaud bounded ahead of them at that moment, shoving Jiao-Long a bit and making him wince and frown at the child. How careless! But it was one of a great many small things Renaud did that really irritated him, and at the time he was trying not to hurt him. He'd had enough bad stigma about that already. Rufus, however, had only watched him, holding tighter to his hand as he winced, and stalling to wait for him to feel up to walking once more. Renaud was still young; he didn't know any better. Rufus had patience beyond his years, and knew how to use it. He waited until Jiao-Long's obsidian orbs met his own mako-enhanced blue, and smiled warmly, pulling him along eagerly.

They'd played in the trees, chased each other across the grass and pretended to shoot at each other. It was the one chance Jiao-Long and Renaud had to wrestle good-naturedly, and a stray punch was actually fretted over, apologised for. And then, once more, all pain was forgotten, shoved away by the warmth of the sun, and the smell of life and dirt, and the carelessness of childhood.

"Jiao-Long?" Dark eyes snapped open, a slow, languid gesture bringing them onto the concerned poppy-blue ones that stared at him. "You went somewhere without me again." It always seemed to hurt Rufus when he did that. Not that he did it on purpose...

A few days after the greenhouse, Rufus had been taken back to Shinra Manor, been spirited away without so much as a goodbye. The Turks rounded on Jiao-Long the minute he was gone, prodded him about being without his little protective barrier. They tore Renaud from him, stuffed him back into his suit, and took him out for his daily abuse. By the mechanical beasts in the labyrith training courses, that would not stop until one of them was dead. By the men themselves, who were even more ruthless, and wouldn't stop until they had each tasted his blood in their own special manner. He spent an entire night on the field, soaked by the rain and his own blood, nearly every bone in his body broken, wanting to die. But they hadn't let him. Not then, not ever. They were careful killers, perfect murderers, and by the time Rufus returned Jiao-Long was one of them. He was Zheng then, and remained so for the next five years. Distant, a being apart, though Rufus tried so hard to crack his shell.

"I'm sorry, Sir," he replied softly after a long moment, unwrapping a bit of bandaging to try again, and give him something else to focus on besides the curious creature next to him. He gritted his teeth in pain, and hissed a little through Rufus' next phrase.

"Jiao-Long, don't call me that. We're alone, you don't have to be formal. Call me Rufus..." Tentatively, the boy reached out a hand, but Jiao-Long jerked his head away from it before the pristine fingers could brush his hair. He shot Rufus a look he was more than familiar with by now; the look a wild black chocobo gave the person who dared to come close enough to challenge it. How dare you think you can tame it, ride it. You're merely human, and you could never, ever understand its wild beauty. Rufus blushed lightly, and Tseng set his jaw once more. He could _feel_ it, could feel the sexual tension like a fog settling over them. If this wasn't awkward, he didn't know what was.

_That_ had started fairly recently, when Rufus had hit puberty and realised that he had an attraction to the idea of sex. Especially sex with men, and especially sex with the dark untamed beauty he'd called friend for the past few years. When Renaud found out he made a total ruckus about it, which had led to a boisterous fistfight (broken up by Turks themselves) and a deadly threat to keep the information hush-hush. Jiao-Long, unlike Rufus, had been having sex since he got _into_ the Turks. At first, it was that girls, and even women, were drawn to the dark danger of the suits. The innuendo of it, that they were untouchable, which was entirely true. Early on, Jiao-Long realised just what kind of moral crime it was that Renaud even existed in the first place, and did not to this day understand what had allowed him to stay. He supposed maybe it was because he'd been cute as a baby. He'd seen Renaud's baby pictures, and didn't think anything of the sort, but Jet still cooed a little at them, and anything that could make Jet _coo_ was certainly worthy of attention. The women loved it, though, loved the idea of the mystique and exotic danger, and they especially liked Jiao-Long. Evander had a special _look_ on reserve for when he overheard them commenting that the young Wutaiian was taking his place, and that he was getting a _touch_ old, wasn't he?

They liked his thick, silken hair, the colour of coal, and he was thinking about growing it out for them after official initiation was over. They liked that, despite the fact that he was Wutaiian, as evidenced by the slant of his eyes among other things, his skin as he'd aged had settled into a smooth olive, practically milk-white compared to his comrades. And of course his pretty face, which stayed so feminine as he grew older, despite all efforts otherwise. He was like a delicacy to them, and Rufus, to whom everything was a posession, seemed to think so as well. To Rufus, Jiao-Long was the only thing in the world that was still untouchable, and Jiao-Long wanted it to stay that way. As far as he was concerned, while he may stoop to the occasional sexual encounter with men, Rufus was absolutely off limits. Not only was he the President's son, and therefore his ward, but he was four years his junior, and they had a long history of awkward half-dislike on top of it. He wasn't about to be a pedophile who destroyed his career - and most likely his life - just for the challenge. Turning a quick, fleeting glance to Rufus, he caught back the smirk that wanted to turn one corner of his lips up. No, the skinny, overly-pampered child was definitely not worth it.

"Is there something you wanted?" Jiao-Long asked finally, and Rufus actually did smile a little. He loved the sound of Jiao-Long's voice, its soft, deep intonation. To everyone else, it was a monotone thing, only discernable by the slight accent that still touched some consonants, but to Rufus...he could read Jiao-Long like a book. His beautiful, expressive eyes, the slight intonations of his voice that to him were almost musical in their quality. He was smitten, and always had been, but now that he was faced with him, probably for the last time, he had to own up to it all. He steeled himself a bit, nodding a little. Rufus had to admit to himself that he didn't feel nearly as confident as he thought he did.

"This is...I mean, I...I wanted to see you," he managed, sighing and falling dramatically onto the bed beaneath him. Jiao-Long paused in his work to watch him, as his bright eyes blinked at the ceiling, his arms coming together behind his head to pillow it against the hard mattress Jiao-Long was sure his body wasn't used to. He watched him in silence, until their eyes met once more, and Rufus sat up slowly. Another long silence ensued, and Jiao-Long took the moment to finish wrapping his ankle. He was tucking the bandage in carefully when Rufus spoke once more.

"Let me kiss you?" Jiao-Long started despite himself, gaze flying back onto Rufus'. The boy's eyes were pleading, as his low voice had nearly cracked with fear. There was a hesitation, in which Jiao-Long fought with himself, and then closed his mouth to blink at Rufus. "I won't order you to. I'm asking you this...as a friend. As Rufus." There was more he wanted to say, but he was afraid it would be too much. Jiao-Long remained silent for a long moment, waiting.

"I won't refuse you," he said finally, after much contemplation of how exactly to word himself. It hurt to hear him say it like that, but Rufus couldn't help accepting that small amount of permission. He wanted to lunge at him, tackle him into a heated kiss, demand he take him right then and there while they were still alone. But he was much too dignified for that, and was afraid it wouldn't turn out anything like the way he imagined it. With a small nod, Rufus stopped chewing his lip and tentatively dipped his head toward Jiao-Long's, feeling a twinge in his stomach as the man didn't pull away. He hesitated, milimetres from him, savouring every sensation of it, knowing it would never happen again. The feel of his slow, warm breaths against his lips. The smell of him, that exotic sandalwood-and-iron scent that lingered in rooms where he'd been, so very close to him that it made him more excited than he'd ever wanted to be. The sound of his heartbeat, which Rufus had never known to be so loud. And as he allowed him to slip his fingers into the curtain of pristine, silken black hair, Rufus practically moaned. Closing his eyes, and feeling a tear threatening to spill, he let their lips touch, rested there for a moment before doing anything. It was Jiao-Long who initiated movement, and Rufus really did moan when those lips parted slightly, sighing against him and yielding to him with tiny, exquisite movements.

Jiao-Long let his eyes fall closed, feeling himself fall back as the world fell away from him. He'd been kissed before, but it had never been like this. Rufus had no idea what he was doing, that was for sure, but the very sensation of the soft, pampered skin, the natural heat of him so close, was a greater comfort than anything in his life ever had been. It wasn't arousing, per se, but he needed it still more than anything he'd ever had in his life. More than food, more than a release from the pain...because, somehow, this simple gesture gave him all of that. It was his sustenance, and stole every sensation away but the warmth and gentle desire of this awkward, teenage kiss.

Rufus moaned again, softly, something akin to a breathy whine. It was the sound he made when he first fell into sleep, Jiao-Long knew, and he had a split second to wonder why he made it now. And then it occurred to them both the position they were in. Without realising it, Jiao-Long had allowed Rufus to lean him back, and had both arms around the boy's neck, was holding him close in comfortable want as the hand that wasn't keeping Rufus balanced slipped through the strands of Jiao-Long's hair in a gesture of something akin to adolescent need. The kiss broke, and Rufus was panting, while Jiao-Long merely stared up at him in mild surprise, his eyes half-lidded from being closed and his lips parted gently. They stayed like that for a long time, staring at each other, each wondering in silence exactly what this meant. It was once more Jiao-Long who broke the stillness, his expression unchanging as he spoke lowly.

"I don't love you," he said, and a slight tint of sadness crossed Rufus' face. He offered a little smile in return, bending back down to touch his lips back onto Jiao-Long's gently.

"I know," he whispered, before initiating yet another kiss, and showing just how fast he learned by imitating some of the movements Jiao-Long had made on him. It was Jiao-Long's turn to moan, a tiny cracking sound that was more like a deep sigh. This kiss deepened, and they spent hours together silently sharing sensations, teaching each other what felt good, and what it felt like to be wanted for more than sex.

A few floors down, Kunsel lit up the last of tonight's cigarettes and sat back in his swivel-chair, blinking at the black-and-white screen that flickered a bit in its small box. This was so much more interesting than Evander masturbating with an old dildo and Jet watching his pre-recorded soaps till 3 am. Smirking, Kunsel made a note on his little notepad, the one he kept in his drawer for personal observations.

_June 3, 1991_

_Rufus initiated the kiss. Asked for it, actually. But Jiao-Long liked it. A lot._

Sitting back once more for a moment to gaze back at the screen, Kunsel chewed the end of his pen a little, and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. _Keep an eye on that one. He's good._ A note he'd written a million times by now about the kid, but this time was about young Mr. Shinra.


	4. Chapter 4

_hey smexy. wat time u gettin outta that office?_

Reno leaned back to balance his chair on its rear two legs, hitting the send button on his personal cell phone and watching the little flash illustration as it sent successfully. Sighing, he let his hand fall back into his lap and tipped his head back, staring up at a mako-clouded sky. It was the billionth time in as many nights he'd wondered what stars really looked like, as once again he was doing night patrol duty. Someday, he wouldn't be in purgatory anymore, and he'd get an actual EMR instead of a nightstick, and be able to do stuff that actually mattered. Until then, he'd have to settle for being prodded by a guy barely a year older than him, and ignoring him outright.

"Hey, Short-stuff, hurry up with that cig. Break's over." Reno closed his eyes, relishing sucking down the last of the cancer stick before flicking it away, held his breath for way too long, and showed off by breathing out for at least 60 seconds. The guard stealing the chair from him dealt him a hard blow to the back of the head just as he was finishing, making the chair clatter back onto all four feet and Reno erupt in a coughing fit. All he was offered in response was a short _tch_ and a shove away from the chair, toward the circuit. Still coughing, Reno flipped his companion off, scampering away from the next shot directed toward him with a wide grin. His cell phone vibrated in his pocket as his stood back upright, and he twirled the nightstick, hefting it as he disappeared around the bend. Personal cell phones were way beyond banned while on duty, but Reno was pretty good at getting away with shit. It helped when your dad was shagging the head of intelligence. Even if the very idea of that made Reno wish he could exchange the knowledge of this information for parapalegia. Whistling boredly, Reno flipped open his previously palmed phone, the screen lighting up his face in the dark.

_Around 1. Fathers being an extraordinary ass today. Something about some terrorist group_

Reno bit his lip, trying not to smile at his own internal jest, because it was mean, and this time it was just plain wrong. Stopping briefly, he typed a reply faster than a couple of blinks, and closing the phone back into his pocket continued on his way, never missing a beat in his whistling. He was good, too, considering he had to be. He was up against _Zheng_ after all. He had a set of records to beat.

_dude really?! man needs to learn to lick his own balls for once (.) ooh terrorists! dont tell me, they wanna kill u rite_

It was only a moment before the next text, and Reno stopped once more, deftly reading and answering.

_Father, actually. And dont forget he has lazard_

Reno grinned and typed back, shaking his head. They were so mean, but at least they were mean together. Ever since they were kids. He only wished he could be as cool and collected as his 16-year-old counterpart. Lucky bastard was _cultivated_. Whatever that meant, in context.

_oh that was harsh. i like lazard he has great hair. think hed bang me?_

This one was replied to even faster, and Reno had to stop on his circuit before he'd barely begun again.

_Prolly. I did. :)_

He couldn't help the smile that blossomed across his face at that one, and had to really put an effort forward not to interrupt his whistling with laughter. As he typed, he walked a few more paces, and stopped at the exact opposite side of the circular wall from tonight's partner, leaning against it to continue the conversation. If the two other guards perched above them noticed the bluish light of the phone - which they could never have missed, really - they had no objections to it. They all knew Reno by now, since he was starting to get a rep. It's not like they could stop him if they wanted to.

_dont get snippy hot stuff u kno i luv ya_

The next text took quite a bit longer, and Reno moved onto another song, to which one of the men above him hummed along. As Reno broke for his phone, the other continued the melody for him.

_Yeah, I know. What are you doing tonight?_

_outer night shift_, he responded with a frown, knowing Rufus would understand that. He wasn't _stupid_, after all. He wasn't going to give away his exact location or currect activities. ...Well, except that he was obviously the guy with the glowy blue phone held to his nose. _then gotta read sum stuff 4 hist refresher...oyah and mebbe u later ;3_

_Not likely_, came the reply a moment later, not giving Reno time to catch up to the song. The guard fell silent, if not for the occasional shifting of uncomfortable limbs. Can't be falling asleep on the job, even a part of you. _Suffering dinner with the politicians_

_break sumthin for me_, Reno replied, because if he wouldn't get to see him the man could at least channel him. _an admit it, u wanna fuck me. even lookin around at those nasty politicians and their fakeness, ur still thinkin abt fucking me_

A long silence ensued, which was perfectly understandable if Rufus was busy at a dinner table. He would only be able to respond when he was allowed to leave, most likely for a restroom break/excuse to leave and bitch about the company. In all truth, Reno was expecting him to bypass his last comment, and do just that. Imagine his surprise.

_-sigh- am i terrible for wanting you both?_

Reno frowned outright. Way to ruin his night. Damnit, he was always encroaching on his fucking territory, wasn't he? First coming in and taking over _his_ rightful place as the best Turk since his dad. Then becoming the hottest, most in-demand piece of meat in Shinra, _including_ Sephiroth, Evander, and Rufus himself. Reno hadn't even made it on the radar thanks to that punk crowding up every inch of his space, not once since he'd been old enough to have his first few assignments. He could bet that even in four years, when he got his official induction over and done with, people still wouldn't even know his name. How lame was that for the son of The Legend. Shit, he couldn't even get _Cissnei_ to look at him, when Zheng was in the room. How could he expect Rufus Shinra to? Reno sighed, glaring at the phone for a long moment before laboriously typing back.

_i dunno. wats he say these days_

Might as well know what he was up against. Always good to know your enemy. He'd learned that from Mr. Jiao-Long Zheng himself. The return text was more than satisfactory, however, and Reno couldn't help the smug grin that overtook him.

_not much..._ the dejected voice of Rufus seemed to sigh through the phone. _and he hasnt been paying attention to me at all._

No shit, thought Reno as he texted back, taking advantage of the moment. Every single one of the Turks knew Zheng's track record, and it was anything but homosexual. Rufus just had to come to terms with that. After a four year on-again off-again relationship with him, though, that was harder than Reno wanted to believe. Only Kunsel, head of intelligence himself, knew what really went on between the two of them, and no one else really wanted to. Especially Reno. Most days.

_why do you still try with him? you know hes not gay_

Reno didn't bother to tuck the phone away anymore, simply waiting, and actually looking out over the vast expanse of plate before him. Might as well do his job, since there was nothing else to do as he waited between replies. It was taking him longer, since he was busy. The phone buzzed again, and Reno turned his attention to it.

_i thought he liked me enough to care...i dont know anymore. would you help me get out to hit the honeybee?_

Since precious Jiao-Long wouldn't break the rules enough to do it for him... Reno wanted to snigger, but refrained. Once again, that would just have been mean.

_why not hit me instead_

Gaia, this kid was thick some days. Then again, Reno tended to always come on strong, even when he was playing. Which was a lot. He guessed he could understand. Sighing, he glanced up at the men above him and winked, smiling. It was a thanks, and he was offered an acknowledment in the form of a little tap on the building's structure as the men shifted again. What fun the small gestures between them were. The phone buzzed, and Reno turned to gaze back down at it.

_thats what i mean. if we get caught here..._

_i wont get caught._ Reno pressed a quick reply, smirking at the thought of the men above him. _i never do, u know me. i got another hour think u can keep it in ur pants that long?_ Oh, how fun it was to tease him. The next text was a quick one, and Reno was glad. It gave him less time to get flustered thinking about it. If the "vp2b" was nothing else, he was damned good in the sack.

_-rolls eyes-_ _yes, reno, i think i can be patient. where do you want to meet?_

As Reno typed back, he had to backtrack. Company confidentiality bullshit again. But this time it actually was important; it was a member of the Shinra family's whereabouts. He chose to speak in code Rufus would understand once more, even more vague than before.

_had to ask. u at the usual or upstairs?_

Vague enough, he supposed. At least he was surrounded by guards, in any case. The response was quick and short.

_Upstairs_

_in that case ill see u in 30._ Reno hesitated, letting the butterflies settle as he risked adding the word he was always afraid to utter in Rufus' presence. At least he wouldn't be able to see the look on his face if he texted it... _do you luv me?_

A longer hesitation this time, and Reno began to feel sick. He knew he shouldn't have mentioned it. Just ignore it. It's nothing. It's just him being stupid. He'll notice sooner or later. You're better than him. You've always been better than that strict and stuck-up bastard. He knows it, deep inside, and he'll realise it for sure someday. He started as the phone buzzed once more in his palm, and turned down to look at it, realising he was sweating. Damn if Rufus didn't have him in the palm of his hand.

_You know i do. see you there_

"Reno." Reno couldn't help it; the stress had built up, and before the adrenaline even had time to reach his brain he had screamed and jumped at least a foot off the ground, nearly dropping his phone. He stumbled as he caught himself, and stared wide-eyed into the calm, dark gaze of his superior. Suddenly realising the situation he was in, he turned to glare with total earnest hatred upward.

"Which one o' you fucks told!"

"Phone." The same tone spat out that word, said with the quiet, still tone he heard in his nightmares, that was worse than being barked orders at. Reno couldn't help but be drawn to that voice, turn all his attention to it, and blink awkwardly at the outstretched hand. One finger slid across the keypad to hit the erase button, but Zheng snatched the device from him before he could make a move, turning it to gaze at it contents. Reno practically groaned, as he lifted an eyebrow. Not even turning to look back at him, Zheng turned on his heel with a short, "Follow me," knowing the other would comply. Sighing, and flipping off the two other guards for good measure, Reno stumbled after the man who just couldn't stop ruining his life.

---------------

Rufus... Zheng shook his head. He should have known. If anyone was Renaud's little partner in crime, he would be the one. They'd been making his life - and those of his coworkers - hell since they were old enough to walk. Reno made a little noise behind him as they walked, and Zheng sighed a little.

As Rufus' bodyguard, he'd been standing in the far corner the entire night, waiting out the boring meal with everyone else. But halfway through the dinner, he'd noticed a little too keenly what he knew every other person in the room had; Rufus was taking a few too many breaks from it all. It was obvious he didn't prefer the company he was in, and could even have been taken so far as to seem that he was ill, but really it had become ridiculous. As Rufus returned once more to the table, apologising all over for his absence, Zheng shot the man across the room a look. Evander nodded discreetly, and as Zheng moved away to the door to relieve him, he stepped right over to his own place and stood in silence.

Instead of staying at the door, however, he informed the ladies outside that he was planning to step outside for a moment. Being trusted, this was nothing. He needed some fresh air. Between flirting with the girls, he was sure Evander had been doing the same. But Zheng had a hunch. One that was confirmed as he passed around the building's circuit and spied the familiar blue glow casting sharp, fake shadows over Renaud's adolescent face. He should have known.

"This is the third time this week, Reno," Zheng informed him as they walked into his cubicle, as if he didn't know. The young man plopped into his regular seat at the desk across from Zheng, who had moved to the far wall to type out his own text.

"It's illegal to use others' PHS's without askin', yaknow," he mocked, and Zheng ignored him.

_Mr. Shinra I thought you would know better than to text my Turks while they are on duty. On private phone no less._

He remained silent, listening to Renaud swing his leather chair back and forth and mess with his papers, as he waited for a reply. After a short time, he was rewarded by the buzzing of the device against his palm, and the dancing envelope on Renaud's screen.

_Jiao-long?_

_Yes, sir._ He typed back, paying special attention to the sound and feel of what Renaud was doing behind him. He was making origami with his sticky notes. If he was using the pink ones again, Zheng hoped he knew he was just adding insult to injury. _I am asking you once more to refrain from jeapordising company information, or I wil have to restrict privileges for Reno._

Not that he could, really, but he could rat him out. He'd been doing the same thing everyone else had; letting him get away with it, considering it harmless child's play. But it had gone on long enough. A tiny paper airplane sailed over and landed neatly on top of his head, and he pulled it down and crumpled it in his free hand, noting the glance of neon pink as he did so.

"Ya make a great landing strip, yo," Renaud quipped behind him. Zheng gave him the benefit of the doubt, and turned on him, stepping over to his desk and noting the various crude shapes littering its once-pristine surface. He'd even messed up his papers. How considerate.

"I am suspending your use of this phone until the proper diagnostics have been run." Renaud groaned.

"Come on, man, that's my fucken PHS! You can't do that!" Zheng shot him a look, ignoring for now the return text that vibrated in his grasp. Renaud frowned, glaring a bit back in indignation.

"Fine. Whatever Mr. High-and-mighty. I'll let Kunsel know you wanna check it." Without asking permission, Reno rose from the chair and strode out, to check out of his shift and go spirit away Rufus, as he'd promised. At least _he_ kept true to the things he said to the man, unlike _some_ Turks...

"Reno!" Zheng shot back, attempting to keep him, but the command fell on deaf ears. Hefting a sigh once he kne he was alone, Zheng rolled his eyes and turned back to the phone. The message waiting for him was anything but a relief from tonight's stress.

_YOU COLOSSAL ASS. IF YOU SO MUCH AS GLARE AT RENO I AM NEVER SPEAKING TO YOU AGAIN_

Zheng sighed once more, pressing the reply button. "I am surrounded by immature fools..." he whispered to himself as he typed, refraining from hurling the thing against a hard surface as he hit the send button. It wouldn't help a thing.

_That is very unlikely, sir, but noted. If you wish, we can continue this conversation after you shift. I am turning off the phone._

In the time it took him to hit send, locate the power button, and press it, one last message popped up on the screen; a record in typing speed, for the usually OCD man, who took forever to put his ideas down perfectly, even in a text. Blinking, Zheng practically shrugged to himself as he decided he might as well check it.

_I hate you._

Something deep in Zheng's torso twinged, and screamed. Angry himself now, he deleted the message and turned off the phone, slamming it between his palm and the top of his desk as the screen went dead. Jaw clenched, he took a few deep breaths, fighting back the familiar onslaught of emotions. Four years ago, he'd told himself it was the fear of pedophilia. Two years ago, he'd convinced himself it was the fear of losing his job. And between the months and nights, these days, he knew it for what it was, and told himself that it was absolutely forbidden. Not because it was taboo, or because of the danger about it, but because he was _him_, and _it_ wasn't. Not the President's son, not the kid he'd been dying for every day since he got here. Not now, not then, not ever.

It was the taste of his own blood that brought him back this time, as he realised his teeth were digging into his lower lip. He started a bit, and blinked himself back into consciousness. All it took was a moment, and standing he fixed his suit, back to the collected demeanour he wore, that coveted mask that made him everything he was to everyone he knew. With a deft gesture, he slipped the cell phone into his pocket, flicking his tongue out against the punctures in his lip to stem the bleeding. It was nothing, and would be seen as such, he thought, as he stepped back down the hallway and upstairs, to the meeting room where the politicians were just finishing with their dessert. They would talk for half an hour, maybe more, and then they would be gone. Rufus would be free. Free to do more than just glare at the shock of black that appeared once more at the doorway, nodding to Evander that things were alright. Oh, Tseng couldn't wait...


End file.
